The summer ended in September blaze.
The leaves changed color under hot sun’s rays
The Autumn wind blew them to the parched ground
Then swirled them up again, up and around.
A blinding sun burned in cerulean sky.
An east wind swept in fiercely, hot and dry,
As the last apple dropped down off its tree,
I saw pears ready to pick above me
The acorns brought the squirrels, the jay, the crow
The doe with speckled fawns who browsed below.
They all came to partake, calmly in peace,
And giving their thanks to the oak, to feast.
Then just in time there came the winter rain,
And parched brown earth soon sprang to life again.
They stored the lawn chairs, kiddie pool and barbecue.
Then ate a last burger on the patio.
While the children, popsicles dripping down chins,
Chased fireflies on the lawn damp with evening dew,
The elders sat on the screened porch, rocking, talking, then telling stories
When the children, tired, came to laps to rest.
They went inside to bed, the windows open wide, for the heat lingered,
But they slept long, as the sun was late to rise.
And when they finally awakened, they felt a new coolness in the air,
Smelled chimney smoke, heard migrating geese calling,
Saw white frost dampening the fallen Autumn leaves, scarecrows on porches,
And they knew Autumn had arrived
In Autumn I think
Of my mother:
Born in September,
Lived in New Hampshire,
Land of red and yellow maple leaves,
Of maple syrup, you gathered
Blueberries in the woods.
As mother, you baked cookies
To put in our back to school lunch bag,
Sewed Halloween costumes for whatever
Crazy ideas your kids had: witch, Statue of Liberty,
panther, tooth, Pied Piper,
(but Dad took us out to trick or treat)
Taught me how to wax leaves
To preserve them for Thanksgiving.
Gave me an empty oatmeal box
So I could make a turkey then
Write a story about it.
Cooked a full Thanksgiving dinner
That took three days to prepare:
First pies then rolls, then cranberry sauce,
And stuffing, got up early Thanksgiving morning
To stuff the turkey and put it in the oven
Then all day preparing green beans with almonds,
sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and last, the gravy.
(I set the table, with cornucopia and waxed leaves as centerpiece.)
And you were not done, for after dinner, the dishes
Had to be washed. But you did it all willingly, lovingly
For your family.
And then Fall was over
But Christmas and Winter
were fast approaching
The old slip into somber silence, as a once familiar world slips rapidly away.
It is only the moment that is of moment, all else is memory and speculation.
A culture in twilight is a game without fixed rules.
Life is its own purpose.
Píccola says, "Leave me alone. I'm sleeping."